Thoughtcrimes: The Little Things
by reen212000
Summary: It's the liittle things that make us happy. Freya finds out Brendan's latest indulgence. Written for LJ comm matterothemind challenge 13.


We all have little things that make us happy, right? Freya finds out Brendan's latest indulgence.

The Little Things

Brendan Dean had a choice to make. Get up now, or finally take a sick day. As he mentally scrolled down his to-do list, he decided it was best to just go in late. Turning over, Brendan pulled the covers over his head blocking out daylight.

Minutes later, it seemed, he heard jangling keys, and his front door close. Instantly awake, Brendan threw back the covers. _:Freya?:_

"Yeah, it's me," she answered.

Leaning back against the pillows, he forced his heart to calm, and pulled the covers back over his legs. "What are you doing here?" _:Don't scare me like that!:_

"Sorry." She made her way towards his bedroom. "You decent?"

"I guess." Glancing over at the clock, he rolled his eyes at the blinking numbers. "What time is it?"

"Around ten. You weren't answering your phone, so I thought I'd stop by." She entered the room prepared for anything. "You okay?" Her eyes darted around the room, then to him.

"What?" Brendan fidgeted with the covers, lowering his eyes.

Freya blushed and smiled. "Who _is_ your decorator?"

"My what?" He sat upright, gazing around the room with her. The old rosewood night table; an antique chest of drawers he restored himself; the pewter lamps he "borrowed" from his grandfather's basement. Right now, his partner was looking hungrily at his favorite indulgence: his bed. Before he knew it, Freya had kicked off her shoes and threw her jacket over the Stickley chair he had found at an estate sale.

She leapt onto the bed with a squeal of glee. "Oh. My. _God!_ Brendan. How can you not sleep every night?" Grabbing a pillow, she closed her eyes with a deep sigh.

Inexplicably, Brendan felt guilty, rubbing the back of his neck. "I guess I better get dressed," he said quietly. _:It's late. I'm late.:_ His to-do list flashed again in his mind's eye as he threw back the covers. As he rose, Brendan felt delicate fingers around his wrist, stopping him.

Freya studied her partner's face. While he still looked pale and tired, his eyes were amused yet cautious. His wrist was still thinner than she liked, but Brendan looked healthy for once. "Get your skinny ass back in bed," Freya said as she scooted underneath the covers.

_:Oh, jeez! I'm fine!:_ "Why?" _:You can't make me stay home, ya know.: _He lay on his side to face her.

She pulled the ultrasoft sheet over their heads; they both held up arms to tent it away from their faces. In the muted light, Freya watched Brendan's eyes crinkle at the corners. "I know you're fine," she said. Looking at the sheet over her head, Freya grinned at him. "And here, I thought you didn't know how to relax."

He laughed softly. "Are you making fun of me?"

"Yes." She moved her free hand slowly over the bed below. "I have never felt anything so soft."

Brendan frowned, briefly lost in memories. "Of course you have. Great blanket throw on your couch. That's soft." _:Dark red, your sister gave it to you.:_

"Not like this." She squinted her eyes suspiciously. "Housewarming gift from a girlfriend?"

Her partner chuckled again. "Why? Are you jealous?"

"Ha! It's from your mom, isn't it?"

Brendan tried to look offended. "Never!" _:My mother has never been here.:_

"Are you saying you picked these out yourself?"

"Are you saying I can't have nice things?" He arched a regal brow in her direction.

Freya pulled the sheet down, revealing his spectacular bed head and playful green eyes. "No. I'm thinking, just when I had you pegged, you do something completely opposite."

"Ah," he replied, turning to lie on his back. "I have indulgences too, ya know." This time he gave a sidelong glance. "You imagined cheap, threadbare sheets on an old bed shoved in a corner, and neon lights flashing in my bedroom window, didn't you?" Brendan painted a vivid picture, knowing she would read his thoughts.

"Nah uh!" Freya giggled, punching his shoulder. "This place looks like a hotel room. I'd love to wake up every morning in this bed." As soon as she said it, they were both blushing furiously. "I didn't... um..."

Brendan gave a quick smile. "I know, I know. It'd never work out anyhow."

Hearing a bit of sadness in his tone, Freya furrowed her brow. "What do you mean?"

He rounded his chameleon eyes at her; the gold from the sham making them look more yellow than green. "Apparently, I'm too indulgent." She smacked his arm again, and he pulled out a pillow from under his head, hitting her shoulder. "Yes, I, Brendan Dean have guilty pleasures!

"Bubble baths," she smiled wistfully.

"Who doesn't like a good soak? That's too easy. Frozen candy bars."

"Ice cream out of the carton."

"Pillow fights."

Freya grabbed another pillow and hit him in the chest. Looking at the label, she smiled wickedly. "These are the pillows that don't –"

"Don't start!" He took another swing, rising to his knees. "I doubt you've been a good pillow fight," he said smugly.

Freya scrambled to her knees, pillow in hand. "Oh yeah? Is that a challenge?"

Brendan narrowed his eyes, imagining Clint Eastwood and spaghetti westerns. "Yeah." _Swat._

"Are you kidding? What was that?" _Swat._

"Just a taste of the beating to come." _Swat. Swat._

In a manner of minutes, the pillow fight became an all out war. Thankfully, no pillows were harmed in this fight. Ten minutes later, they collapsed exhausted and laughing onto the bed.

His cell phone rang, breaking the mood. "This is Dean," he said, striving for formality while breathing hard. He looked over at his partner. "Yep, she's here. Woke me up from the best dream, too. Be in soon." He closed the phone and slid off the very high bed. "No rest for the wicked."

"Ahh, man!" Freya pouted. "Do we have to?" She scooted off the bed, straightening the covers. "I'll make some coffee." With one last forlorn look, she retrieved her shoes and coat, leaving the room with a whine.

Padding over to the bathroom, Brendan cursed the day for being Wednesday.

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They left his apartment snickering about pillows and candy, coffee warming their hands.

"You are totally jealous!"

"Of course I'm jealous. I think I said that earlier." At his disbelieving look, she amended. "Okay, maybe not. But still..." She slanted her eyes at him. "What do you know about Egyptian cotton?"

Brendan waggled his brows at her. "More than you think."

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The End!


End file.
